Race You There, Near
by AppleCiderVinegar
Summary: He was always second, always inferior, and it infuriated him. But there was always one thing that Mello could beat Near at...


_There was a thunder of childish footsteps in the hallway, laughs and whoops and joyous hollers as the swarm of children converged from all over the large orphanage to run to the front gate, to watch the car approach and to pounce its occupant before he barely had time to get out of the car._

_The golden child of Wammy's House was home._

_Among the throng of rushing, screaming kids was a blond boy. And as they passed one of the rooms, the boy hazarded a glimpse inside –_

_And immediately broke from the pack, peeking in the door._

_On the floor, working on a puzzle, crouched a silver-haired boy placing pieces of a blank puzzle into a frame. The older boy sneered._

"_Some L you'd be, Near," he said. "Big brother's home and you're not even coming to say hi?"_

"_I'd never be noticed," the boy replied, not taking his eyes off of his puzzle. "L might actually see me if I'm the only one who doesn't come to meet him." He put the last piece into the frame. The blond boy rolled his eyes._

"_Near, you're stupid," he said, and walked over, pulling the crouched boy to his feet roughly by the arm. Near struggled to get free, but the older boy was insistent, dragging him from the room._

"_Mello, what are you doing?" the snowy-haired boy asked, as he had to run to keep up with Mello's fast pace._

"_L's gonna notice you, _and_ we're going to go meet him when he comes," Mello replied. "And you owe me for this." Near stayed silent, one hand twirling in his curls, letting himself be dragged behind. They were way behind the throng that now gathered eagerly in the garden, from the fifteen-year-old kids down to the kids barely old enough to walk. Mello shoved through, keeping a firm hold on Near's wrist, as the black car pulled up in front of the orphanage. The animated chatter fell into an awed silence, as the back door of the car opened, and Mello and Near met less resistance fighting their way to the front._

_The crouched figure in the back of the car uncurled, one bare foot stepping out, the other following. Blue jeans and a white sweater dressed the tall, though hunched, figure, and messy black hair topped it off. Sleepless black eyes, ringed with shadow, looked at all of the kids as he smiled around his thumb. He hadn't expected such an exuberant welcome, in all honesty. It hadn't even been that long since he'd been just a child in the orphanage – among the faces of the older kids, he recognized a few who had grown up with him, even. They were far more reserved in their greeting, although they were still friendly._

_The kids squealed in greeting, as though trying to get noticed by a celebrity (which, in essence, they were). Even Mello jumped and waved his hand, calling out to L, and only Near stayed still, watching, eyes wide with awe. That was, until Mello pulled him through the gate. The other kids followed, clamoring to get closer to the Great L, but Mello and Near led them. They met their "brother" first, and Mello jumped on him happily, releasing Near. The silver-haired boy, having come this far, stared up at L in awe._

_L laughed as he caught Mello, who had clung tenaciously to him with all four limbs, and looked down at Near with a friendly smile. He'd heard about these two from Mr. Wammy. Mello and Near, already at the top of their class, beating out the older kids for the spot as heirs to the moniker L. These two were closest to being his little brothers. So he scooped the smaller boy into his other arm, hugging them both tightly, desperate to be a good example for the two boys to follow. It would be irresponsible of him to ever assume that one of these two boys wouldn't one day succeed him. It was as much his job as it was the teachers' to make sure that these boys were prepared to become the embodiment of Justice. Near, uncertain, finally put his arms over Mello's around L's neck, clinging onto him like Mello had. And although he still walked slightly hunched, with Mello and Near clinging onto him, L had to walk a little straighter, happily greeting all of the children that flocked to him, an individual smile for each one._

_Near met Mello's eyes, and the blond gave him a cocky look, claiming superiority that he had gotten to L first, that Near wouldn't have even come down, wouldn't be getting to hug the golden child of Wammy's House, if it hadn't been for Mello._

_And Near decided, clinging to L's ivory sweater, the detective's arm hugging him close, that maybe losing to Mello this once was worth it._

The two rivals, opposites, were called to the caretaker's office one cold November morning, Near carrying with him a puzzle as he always did. He shuffled into the room at his own pace, immediately crouching on the floor and setting his puzzle in front of him, pressing the blank pieces into place one by one. Mello too came in at his own pace, although he was reluctant because he thought that he was in trouble (again). The news, and the reason they had been called, was much more serious than a childish squabble.

"L is dead."

Mello reacted visibly to this horrible news, gaping in shock – Near did not. Near, his chin resting on his hand which curled over his knee, continued staring at the blank white pieces emotionlessly. L _couldn't_ be dead. He was the great Detective L, the idol, the hero to all the kids at Wammy's House, whether they were in line to compete to become his successor or not; he couldn't just die.

"...Dead? Bu-but _how_?!" Mello yelped, wide-eyed, slamming his fists down on the caretaker's desk. Roger looked at him, hands still folded, fixing the boy with a level, sad expression. Near, still crouched on the floor, continued working with his puzzle.

The two boys had heard snatches of the case that the man they looked up to like an elder brother was investigating. It was a serial killer, living in Japan, who killed primarily through heart attacks. A killer known as Kira. They had been interested in it initially because they knew their brother was investigating it.

But now that L was dead, Near and Mello both realized why they had been allowed to know as much about the case as they did.

L had known from the start that this case might – _would_ – kill him. So his heirs had been outlined on the case. It had been the smartest thing to do, but all the same, Mello was angry with their predecessor. Angry at L for dying, something that he couldn't possibly have stopped.

"Do you mean he was killed by Kira? Is that it?" Mello yelled, wanting an answer, eyes wide, yelling practically in Roger's face. He wanted, _needed_ someone to blame for this tragedy, so that he could stop hating L for it. The old man seemed unmoved, though L's death and that of the orphanage's founder both had drawn deep lines of grief into his face. He bowed his head slightly, closing his eyes.

"Most likely, yes," he replied. Near, still staring dispassionately at his puzzle, pressed the last cardboard piece into place. Mello was more frantic now, and he grabbed Roger fiercely.

"You mean he was going to get Kira the death penalty and now...he's dead? Is that what you're telling me?!" the boy shrieked, clutching Roger's coat, shaking him.

"...Mello," the old man tried to soothe the grief-stricken boy. But then it was Near's quiet voice that broke the silence.

"If we don't win the game – if we don't solve the puzzle – we're nothing more than failures," he said simply, dumping his puzzle back onto the floor to start over again. Failures to what, he didn't specify – he didn't need to. They would be failures to what L had worked for, failures to the memory of their elder brother. They would be failures as his successors. Something in Near's words calmed Mello, and he released Roger. There was a heavy silence.

"So, between me and Near, who did he...?" Mello asked, fixing Roger with a wide-eyed stare as Near started placing the puzzle pieces into place. Roger sighed.

"I'm afraid he hadn't yet chosen, Mello," the old man said. "And now he's dead, you see." He regarded the two boys before him, so dynamically different, so brilliant and genius each in their own ways – it almost seemed as if, although L had broken the mold, the two halves were used to make the two boys before him. And Roger understood why, even though his life had been in danger, even though he had closed in on Kira, L had never chosen one of the two – though he met them both many times – to be his true successor.

"Mello, Near...How about you both work together?" he suggested, knowing that at least one of the boys would never go for it. But he was sure that it was what L would have wanted, what he intended because he never stated one of them to be his successor.

"Yes, agreed," Near replied, without skipping a beat, still crouched on the floor not looking up at either Mello or Roger. Mello looked uneasy. Finally, the blond's expression steeled.

"Impossible, Roger!" he said. "You know that Near and I don't get along. We've always been rivals," Mello said, his tone almost challenging Near – who really held no rivalry toward him – to say anything. The snowy-haired boy, of course, didn't.

"Listen, Roger," Mello said, once more calm. "Near will be the one to succeed L. Unlike me, he'll do the job calmly, without emotion, like he solves a puzzle." Near sat on the floor the whole time, pressing the pieces back into place, solving his puzzle once more, not saying anything as if to punctuate Mello's point.

"I'm leaving! From the institute, too!" Mello declared, turning to leave. Still Near sat there, infuriatingly never showing a single sign of emotion, even though their brother was dead and Mello was leaving. Well, if Near wasn't going to even pretend like he'd miss him, then Mello was going to give him something to miss!

"Mello!" Roger called, as Mello started to leave the room. Still Near just sat there.

"Roger...do whatever you want. I'll be fifteen in no time, after all," Mello said as he stalked from the room, angrily slamming the door behind him.

"I'll live out my own way!" he yelled as he stormed away.

And that night, with everything he owned, Mello left Wammy's House to find his own way in the world.

_L's visits to Wammy's House came once every few years, maybe. When there were no cases taking up his attention and he wasn't in hiding to create dead ends because someone was close to discovering his true identity, L liked to return to the place that really felt like home to him. And the kids liked it when he visited. Whenever he came, the kids rushed to the door as soon as they heard, clamoring in the garden, waiting for the golden child of Wammy's House to return home._

_One boy was never so enthusiastic, however. The snowy-haired child sat in his room with his puzzles and toys, seemingly unaware or else uncaring of the bustle of running, hollering children that thundered past._

_But he could never hide in his room for long. His rival, his competition to inherit the moniker L, always came running into the room to get him to come down and meet L. Their "rivalry," which the younger never really acknowledged, never disappeared when L came to visit; it only changed, became more friendly and less life-or-death. After all, when their big brother was in the room, devoting his attention to them, or else picking them up and carrying them after they met him at the car, it was hard to imagine that someday they'd be in a position to succeed him as L._

_Mello came to the doorway of the boys common room, seeing – as always – Near sitting on the floor with one of his puzzles. He grinned._

"_Hey, didn't you hear? L's home!" the blond said enthusiastically. "C'mon, Near, I'll race you there," he teased, poising to run, not expecting Near to take the bait. Near set his puzzle aside and stood, walking to where Mello waited in the doorway. Without saying a word, he fell into the same pose, spring-loaded like Mello. Mello's eyes widened, but then he smirked. The snowy-haired boy rarely left the house, while Mello was the football (soccer, not American) champion of Wammy's House. No one could outrun him._

"_Alright," he said, "on your mark, get set...go!" And Mello was like lightning, racing down the hallway to the stairs, thundering down at top speed. Near followed behind, bare feet banging on the wooden floors as he raced after Mello. Mello glanced behind him to see if Near was still there, and in his peripherals – yep, the boy was there racing after him. Mello grinned. He was going to win, he was actually better at something than Near! He reached out to grab the front door, to tag the finish line and win, _win_, once and for all..._

_The door swung open before him, revealing their elder brother L. Mello froze as if obeying an unspoken command, looking up at L wide-eyed. Near in his socked feet slid to a stop. L smiled at his two heirs, and crouched down to meet their eyes on their level._

"_Hello boys," he greeted cheerfully, smiling at them, his thumb resting on his lower lip._

"_Hi, L," Mello greeted, hugging L around the neck exuberantly._

"_Hello, L," Near greeted also, though he had to be tugged a little bit into the hug. L embraced both of them tightly. Over L's shoulder, Mello gave Near a smug look, and mouthed something._

"_Beat you." After a moment, L pulled back and looked at them._

"_I hear from Roger that you and the other children have been working hard to put together a piano concert today," he said, wide childlike eyes looking at the two children in front of him with a friendly look._

"_Yeah!" Mello said. "I'm the best," he boasted confidently. L chuckled._

"_I'm certainly looking forward to the concert," he said. "I'm sure it will be outstanding." He put his hands on the two boys' heads, ruffling their hair lightly before he stood. He offered his hands to them, and eagerly they slipped their hands into his, Mello chattering away eagerly to one side and Near walking silently on the other._

Mello scowled at the memory. He'd utterly sucked at the piano concert, forgotten the fingerings, pressed the wrong foot pedals – everything that could have gone wrong, did. And Near did perfectly, as always. But L smiled at him, without pity at all, so Mello hadn't been so shamed to be afraid to sit at his older brother's feet when his part was over.

But those times were all over and done with. Mello had to stay in the present – he had a kidnapped newscaster naked in the back of the truck that he currently commandeered. He'd searched her clothes for any sign of the Note, so he was fairly sure that she didn't have it. He was taking her to the abandoned church, listening to the news report on the radio about the shootout.

'Matt...' Mello thought mournfully, sighing. He hadn't wanted the other to go on the damn shooting anyway. Matt was dumb, had thought it would be as easy to get out of as a video game – or at least, if he died, he'd have another man. Dumb, stupid little asshole. Dammit, Matt. 'I didn't mean for you to get killed...'

Mello sighed and clicked off the radio, not wanting to listen anymore. His eyes stared at the road ahead, his expression resolute. His breath was coming faster because he was pissed at Matt for having the balls to up and die. His heart hurt, because he knew, just _knew_ that somehow he'd die – that he'd fucking lost to Near _again_!

But there wasn't an explanation for how his vision faded out of focus, how suddenly it hurt to move, and Mello was tired – so tired...He could just lay his head down and sleep for a few minutes. They were almost at the church, he could just...

Mello slouched over the steering wheel. The truck crashed into the church, with no driver to guide it. Mello could feel the darkness closing in, wrapping comforting tendrils around him. It reminded him of lanky arms, childhood memories of being lifted into surprisingly strong arms, clinging onto a soft ivory sweater. The pulse beating in his ears reminded him of childhood races, against a boy with snowy hair, wanting to be first to get to the door, to meet their big brother where he waited for them.

He knew he was dying now. There wasn't any other explanation. He clenched the rosary that he wore in his fist, squeezing his eyes shut as if in a final prayer. He'd always been second to Near, but he'd always run faster. He'd always beaten Near in their races to greet L.

And it looked like he'd beat him again, for the last time.

"_Race you there, Near."_


End file.
